Akira tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the Hummer silently rolled deeper into Citrus City.
From two months of surviving the apocalypse, he'd learned one simple rule.
If a city looked too empty it wasn't empty, On the contrary The walkers were simply somewhere else.
"Pasadena taught me that lesson," he muttered.
Back at Pasadena He had driven through nearly half the city without seeing more than a dozen walkers.
Then he'd turned one corner and nearly driven straight into a horde numbering in the thousands.
Then at San Diego the situation had been even worse.
He still remembered watching what looked like an entire district's worth of walkers slowly shuffling down Interstate 5.
After that, he stopped assuming quiet streets meant safety.
Instead, they usually meant every slow walker had gathered into one massive herd.
The Hummer crept forward at barely twenty kilometers per hour.
Its modified engine produced little more than a faint hum.
Another modification Akira had been grateful for was the factory-installed black tinted windows.
From outside, it was nearly impossible to see who or what was inside.
More than once, he'd watched walkers ignore the parked vehicle completely.
Even some runners had sprinted past it, chasing louder prey instead.
It wasn't perfect camouflage.
But it was better than announcing his presence with a roaring engine.
His eyes constantly swept the streets.
Left.
Right.
Rooftops.
Storefronts.
Alleys.
A handful of slow walkers wandered aimlessly between abandoned vehicles.
One bumped into a telephone pole.
Another mindlessly clawed at the locked door of a pharmacy.
Nothing unusual.
What was unusual was the complete absence of runners.
Akira frowned "Where the hell are those fast-running motherfuckers?" He didn't like it.
Runners rarely stayed still.
If they weren't wandering Then they were chasing something or waiting.
Neither possibility made him feel any better.
The Hummer reached a three-way intersection.
Akira eased off the accelerator.
Then he saw them "Motherfucker." Akira cursed softly.
Hundreds of walkers maybe more.
A sea of decaying bodies slowly shuffled across the eastern road, filling the entire street.
The endless chorus of groans drifted through the air.
The horde moved with no apparent destination, bumping into abandoned cars and streetlights as it slowly advanced.
Unfortunately.
They were passing directly in front of the city's largest gas station.
Akira clicked his tongue.
"There goes my plan to top off the tank."
Even if the pumps still had fuel, there was no way he was getting anywhere near them.
Not with that many walkers packed together.
He wasn't suicidal.
He studied the horde for another moment before letting out a tired sigh.
"Forget it."
"I need a Walmart or literally any supermarket."
His lips curled into a small grin.
"And, of course Twinkies."
Priorities.
Fuel could wait.
Food couldn't.
And Twinkies.
Well, those were practically a morale booster at this point.
Without another glance at the massive herd, Akira turned the wheel.
The Hummer silently continued straight through the intersection, leaving the gas station and the horde behind.
He didn't notice that several blocks away, hidden behind the shattered windows of a second-floor apartment.
Someone had been watching his vehicle ever since it entered Citrus City.
The observer lowered a pair of binoculars.
"A Hummer?"
A surprised female voice echoed softly through the dark room.
"Someone actually made it into town alive."
----
The black Hummer rolled quietly into the parking lot before coming to a stop near the entrance of a Costco.
Akira switched off the engine.
Silence settled over the empty lot.
He scanned the surrounding buildings through the windshield for nearly a full minute.
No movement.
No shambling walkers.
No sprinting runners.
"So far, so good."
Grabbing his backpack and slinging his FN 509 MRD-LE onto his hip, Akira stepped out and gently closed the driver's door.
Click.
Even after two months, he still refused to slam car doors.
Every unnecessary noise was an invitation to hungry ears.
The automatic glass doors at the front entrance stood frozen half-open.
One side was shattered, leaving broken glass scattered across the floor.
Akira slipped inside.
The warehouse-sized supermarket was dimly lit by sunlight streaming through skylights in the roof.
Rows upon rows of shelves stretched into the distance.
Most had already been picked clean.
Someone had beaten him here weeks ago.
He grabbed an abandoned shopping cart.
"Let's see what's left."
The cart's wheels squeaked softly as he pushed it down the first aisle.
Instant noodles.
Gone.
Rice.
Gone.
Bottled water.
Gone.
Only torn packaging and empty shelves remained.
"Figures."
He moved on.
The canned food aisle had fared slightly better.
A few overlooked cans of baked beans.
Some canned peaches tucked behind a fallen box.
Corn.
Soup.
Mixed vegetables.
He tossed each one into the cart.
Clunk.
Clunk.
"Not much but food is food."
Another aisle yielded canned tuna hidden behind several empty cardboard boxes.
Someone had apparently overlooked them during the initial looting frenzy.
"Lucky me."
Several more cans disappeared into the cart.
After nearly twenty minutes of searching, the cart was only a quarter full.
It wasn't ideal.
But it was enough to make the trip worthwhile.
Eventually, Akira stopped before a large metal door marked:
EMPLOYEES ONLY
"The stockroom."
A grin spread across his face.
"If there's anything good left it'll be back there."
He rested one hand on the shopping cart while reaching for the door.
Before he could touch it.
BANG!!
The metal door exploded outward.
A massive figure stumbled through.
It was enormous.
Well over six feet tall.
Its bloated body strained against what remained of a blue employee vest.
Its bald head glistened beneath the dim light.
Clouded eyes locked onto Akira.
Then it roared.
"GRAAAAGH!"
The giant zombie charged.
"Oh, you big son of a bitch."
Akira immediately shoved the shopping cart aside.
The metal cart crashed into a nearby shelf as the bloated infected barreled past it without slowing.
Instead of panicking.
Akira smiled.
His right hand moved with practiced speed.
The FN 509 cleared its holster.
The pistol came up.
The front sight settled squarely between the zombie's eyes.
Bang!
The first round punched into its forehead.
The giant's head snapped backward.
But it kept charging.
Akira had expected that.
Bang!
The second shot struck almost exactly beside the first.
The zombie's body lost all momentum.
It staggered two more steps before pitching forward.
THUD!
Its massive frame skidded across the polished floor until it finally came to a stop at Akira's feet.
For several seconds.
Nothing moved.
Akira calmly lowered the pistol.
He returned it to its holster with a satisfied nod.
"Rule Number Two."
He looked down at the lifeless corpse.
"Double tap, bitch."
The warehouse fell silent once more.
Then.
From somewhere deeper inside the stockroom.
A loud metallic crash echoed through the darkness.
Akira's amused expression vanished.
"Well." He sighed "I don't think that was the only one."